Merry Christmas

I’m on the couch this week, recovering from foot surgery. Today is my post-operative check-up, where I’ll get my first glimpse of my poor, shriveled, stitched-up left foot, hefted around since last Thursday on crutches with a hand-drawn snowman smiling at me from the bandage. (I think the doctor drew such a picture when he operated on my other foot several years ago, too…)

The weeks prior to last Thursday were spent rushing around taking care of Christmas preparations and tying up loose ends in school. We made out a meal schedule for the girls and shopped for food.

I have to say that once past the initial 24 hours after the surgery — hours in which I kept almost nothing in my stomach — I’ve enjoyed the slower pace of these days. Above all I’m thankful for my family. My husband has helped me in all kinds of ways, doing laundry and supervising children, helping me at all hours here, there and everywhere, and spending time with me when there is work piled and waiting for him to attend to elsewhere. The girls have worked well as a team taking care of the numerous things I’m not able to deal with: vacuuming, feeding the rabbit and cleaning out his litter, cooking, cleaning up the kitchen. They bring me all kinds of things I can’t carry on crutches, from books to glasses of water to meds to ice packs. They brought me installments of chicken noodle soup and saltines once it became apparent that these, at least, would stay down.

I feel blessed beyond measure.

We started Advent watching The Nativity Story as a family, and it was a perfect beginning. I had watched the movie before, but it was much more meaningful this year watching it with my family. It established the right focus for us; I appreciate its simplicity.

It hasn’t been the greatest season for reading, but two books stand out, both of them for children: The Fourth Wise Man and The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas. The former is a picture book adaptation of Henry Van Dyke’s classic tale of the wise man who missed the rendezvous with the three more famous Magi, and it’s a story that always leaves me feeling very satisfied. The latter is Madeleine L’Engle’s account of the Austin family’s Christmas traditions in one very noteworthy year. Despite being a little over the top in its idealized portrait of the Austins (or is it largely the illustrations that make me feel this way?) it’s a touching story that captures the quiet reverence of Christmas.

Tomorrow night we hope to attend a Christmas Eve service — the simpler, the better. As long as we sing “Silent Night” and light the candles, I’ll be happy. Christmas Eve is my favorite night of the whole year.

It’s been quiet in this corner of the blogosphere, but it’s been a good quietness. I’ll be back eventually. For now I just wanted to offer my best wishes for a merry Christmas and happy New Year!